


Assuage

by fantasyrose, sithmarauder (fantasyrose)



Category: Hetalia - Axis Powers
Genre: Consensual, M/M, Romance, Symbiotic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-12-18
Updated: 2010-12-18
Packaged: 2017-10-20 07:12:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/210101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fantasyrose/pseuds/fantasyrose, https://archiveofourown.org/users/fantasyrose/pseuds/sithmarauder
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Sometimes all Denmark requires is someone to hold onto him and whisper practiced phrases into his ear."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Assuage

**Author's Note:**

> I don't think many people know just how much I adore this pairing. I feel sad for not having done anything earlier, actually, though I know I have quite a far ways to go. I also really love Star Trek, more specifically Kirk/Spock. But that is irrelevant. I thought the line worked quite well, considering that it is exactly how countries in real life are.

"Ngh…"

The reverberation ceases almost as soon as it begins, swallowed by the vastness of the room as it absorbs into curtains and bed sheets as two figures move flush against each other, low pants and the occasional groan issuing forth as friction increases and decreases.

"A-ah…"

The one on the bottom has lost his normally cold and stoic expression, focusing only on retaining his own inner control as his hands fist in the crisp white sheets, nails digging into his palm even through the fabric as the larger nations rams into him from behind, grunts of concentration emerging forth from his throat – tired, exhausted, frustrated with the world. And they have a right to be tired, Norway thinks as he hisses, eyes closing as his body tenses and relaxes while Denmark's thrusts increase. This is the fourth time they've done this today, after all: once in the morning, before leaving for a meeting; once in the afternoon, when the other nations went to lunch; once in the shower, when Denmark got home, four hours after Norway's own return, and finally what they were doing now.

Norway arches his back into Denmark's chest as the taller nation reaches down between the smaller Nordic's legs, his breathing coming in quick and spontaneous bursts as his heart rate picks up – and he knows, from the way Denmark speeds up, that the other is the same way.

It's not non-consensual. Norway knows that, as irrational as Denmark can get, he'd never force himself on anyone – not like that. Even the thought of it is enough to make Norway's eyes spark with disapproval.

Ever since Sweden left, Denmark has been more impromptu with his needs – needs that Norway can and will satisfy, of his own free will. He may tease, berate and criticize Denmark's actions a lot, but he doesn't enjoy seeing the other nation suffer.

He knows Denmark had considered Sweden a close friend – maybe even more, though Norway admits that he does not know for sure. And when the tall Nordic up and left with Finland, it had devastated the Dane.

So Norway had told him simply, with no trace of emotion, that he would help however he could.

And that is what he does.

Sometimes all Denmark requires is someone to hold onto him and whisper practiced phrases into his ear – lies, truths, half-truths; whatever Norway thinks will force Denmark to stop brooding, he will say, even if they both know that some of what he says is empty and detached, as Norway is wont to be. Other times, Denmark requires something more physical, usually resulting in sex, as it has this time – the two of them tumbling among crisp white sheets, slamming against water-slicked tiles, or clinging to too-small couches as Denmark's hands trail up and down Norway's sides.

Denmark always could force a reaction out of him somehow.

Denmark's breath is tinged with the smell of alcohol as he breathes against Norway's neck, his hands reacting to stroke Norway's chest as he raises the smaller nation up. Norway is not concerned about the smell, though, for he knows the man is in no way drunk enough to have lost his mind to the liquor. He has seen Denmark drunk before.

"Norway…"

Norway leans his head back against Denmark's shoulders, eyes half-lidded as he groans, his left hand reaching up to twine in Denmark's unseemly, messy blonde hair. He doesn't let Denmark say anything more, his right arm wrapping behind the Dane's neck as he seals their mouth in a kiss, and he feels rather than hears the aggressive growl that comes from Denmark's throat.

 _That's more like it._

Denmark brings Norway as close as he can, so that Norway feels his back being pressed against the tall nation's broad chest, and he bites his lip to keep his own moan in, letting his breathing stagger as he pants and rocks his hips, feeling the Dane within his body as he does so.

Norway arches again as Denmark sudden bites down on his neck, his teeth sucking and biting at the spot as Denmark's aggression escalates, his movements becoming faster and faster, causing Norway's eyes to snap open as he grips Denmark's hair tighter, his body going rigid and then smoothing out as he feels Denmark's hand stroke his length with practiced ease.

" _Norge. Norge, scream for me."_

Norway is startled by the request, though he does not show it. Denmark rarely makes requests during these sessions, and Norway doesn't know how to respond, so he keeps quiet, squashing the keening moans that threaten to spill from his throat as Denmark strokes faster.

" _Vær venlig, Norge."_

It's the please that undoes him, and Norway finally abandons his aloof air, the pleasured sounds – keening moans, pants, undignified whimpers, groans, cries – spilling from his throat, and he watches and listens, with faint traces of amusement in his eyes, as Denmark becomes noticeably affected by it.

" _Danmark!_ " Norway suddenly calls as Denmark bites him again, leaving a clear mark on the side of Norway's neck to join the already prominent one on his left shoulder.

"Beg _, Norge!"_ Denmark suddenly snarls against the skin of Norway's neck. They were both close, Norway could feel it – so close to a release as the friction picks up and the movements become so much more than just movements, each of them seeming to serve a singular purpose as they approach ecstasy together.

"Ah... a-ah! _Danmark_ , _vær så snill,_ " Norway bites out, not even pausing to mourn the loss of his control. It's a waste of time to think now.

"Beg me in Danish," Denmark growls, and Norway's eyes narrow as if he is about to refuse, but a quick downward movement of Denmark's hands cuts off any refusal.

" _Vær venlig, Danmark_ ," he manages to get out before Denmark makes one final thrust, making Norway arch violently as he feels the hot fluids invade his body, before he falls back against the Dane's sweat-slicked chest, his breathing coming in broken and satisfied pants.

Denmark doesn't speak, he just waits patiently for Norway to recover, his hands gripping the smaller nation's hips tightly, leaving unintentional bruises. Norway is unexpectedly grateful for this small action as he finally rests his head wearily against Denmark's shoulder, his eyes already beginning to close as Denmark lifts him up slightly, pulling out as he tugs them both down against the messy sheets of the bed.

Norway's body is unresponsive, the fatigue creeping up on him once more as Denmark stretches out languidly, his normally jovial expression nowhere to be seen as he focuses his gaze on the ceiling, one arm trapped under Norway's tired body. Something unexpected is the way Denmark suddenly pulls Norway's person towards his own, resting his chin atop the blonde nation's head as the drowsiness bleeds out of his body and he relaxes fully in sleep. Norway can't help but feel faintly amused at this action as he realizes he will not be moving from this position until his Danish bed partner feels like subconsciously allowing him, and strangely, he feels all right with that.

The Nordic nation wonders, briefly, when Denmark's next mood will strike. Try as he might, he cannot help the faint smile-slash-smirk that momentarily creeps across his face, and with practiced movements, he reaches up to vainly smooth the strands of hair from Denmark's face.

" _Søvn godt,"_ he says simply before resting his head against Denmark's sculpted shoulders, his eyes closing at last as he, too, succumbs to his exhaustion.

What they are right now are lovers – _inamorato_ , as the Italians would say. Lovers who take pleasure from each other, and have been doing so for too long to be considered friends-with-benefits. Lovers who understand the needs of one another, and lovers who are ready and prepared to do whatever they feel they must to inspire happiness within the other.

And Norway will continue to be there, even after everyone else leaves Denmark – even after unions fall apart and countries drift away from each other.

 _Parted and never parted, never and always touching and touched._   
_  
_

" _Jeg elsker deg, Danmark._ "


End file.
